Regaining Control

Have you ever been so overwhelmed that you felt as if your life no longer belonged to you? Have you ever felt as if someone else’s dependencies have commandeered your schedule? I have gone around that corner so many times this past year, that it feels as if I’m not sure whether my life is indeed mine at all.

I feel as if the dependency of various other people has caused me to want to have more time alone, even if it’s to sleep it off. As an empath, I do my best not to, but in the end, I end up collecting energy from other people, and by the end of a busy people-filled day, I feel like I am weighed down, groggy, and sapped.

Those closest to me understand what I go through; though, sometimes, others who rarely are around, tend to get in contact and want to fit themselves into my schedule, and into my world. Now, there’s nothing wrong with a visit every now and then, but it comes down to a matter of how much am I able to handle?

I have noticed, as of recently, I have grown accustomed to a rare few people I have around me on a daily basis, and need not connect with others aside from them, and they are strong in energy themselves. However, since the house hunting truly began, and is now in the buying process, we’re finding more and more things pop up on the agenda, and more and more people involving themselves in the transaction.

I find myself distracted often now, and I see myself forever in transition, to the point where I want this house bought and paid for, and I want to be moved in so I can settle in on a routine again. Ever since I moved back home with my mother to help her with the house, I’ve been out of sync, and have had no clue what’s going on. I have not been in control of my schedule as I like to be, and I have felt all over the place for about a year now. I miss the days at the apartment we had for two years, where I had my own space, I had a small kitchenette of my own where I cooked meals for my husband, and I had my own sanctuary from everyone.

I see this new home as a reprieve of those things I cherished those three years of living out on our own. However, it may not turn out to be that way to start out. There is a possibility my mother may be living with us to start out, until she can get into an apartment, condo, or cottage to rent. She talks about how scared she is to live alone, but she understands the space my husband and I need.

We’ve lived at my parent’s house throughout most of our marriage so far, and beforehand even. Now? Why not be out on our own as we can finally afford it? She’s able to find places in her price range, where she could make friends and go out on her own, and have a life outside my husband and I. It’s sad, but it’s as if she’s known no one but us for twenty years. I want her to have a life outside us; a life including those she enjoys hanging out with. Maybe date again, maybe go to shows she would never go to with us, maybe even travel with family to see other family. My husband and I have plans to leave the country for vacations in the future, and since she hates to fly, she would never go with us willingly.

It’s just that being overwhelmed in this transitional period of my life has been hell, and I hope purchasing this house will help with that, as I have proved that I can survive on just my husband and I alone. That is my goal, and my dream; to find solace in my schedule, and a place to call my our own where we can say goodnight to others and sleep in our home alone for once. We can be ourselves; we could enjoy the music we like, we can light candles and incense if the situation calls for it, and we can enjoy our own lifestyle while alone. No surprises, nobody crashing our party, and no one hearing something they shouldn’t…

There are times when I feel selfish about things like that, as my mother lived without my dad for eight months after he died before we were able to move in, which feels so long ago. She did it, though I know not how. She never complained, though I did stop over often, but towards the end, I barely saw her. And now, with us moving out once again, I feel the need to get the house out from underneath her. I feel the need to get it sold so that she’s no longer looking for my father to come in through the back door, which she said haunts her heart. I feel the need to eliminate his unfinished burden off her shoulders.

If I know my dad well, he would have called that house his baby, but not my mother’s, or mine. He did what he could to finish the renovations until he came down ill, but he never wanted to slap the burden on his kids for what he couldn’t finish. He knew the house would be too much for my mother, and I remember in his own words, “Sell the house; all our money is in that house. I don’t want her struggling with it if I die.”

Well, he passed, and that year became the darkest year of my life. The fiction I wrote was dark, and torturous, I was sad inside as I saw his body waste away before me, but I tried to believe he’d bounce back, would survive, and would make it through the darkest time of his life. However, even if he had the transplant he needed, Agent Orange would have still taken him down in the end.

I tried to remain strong for my small family, and felt I was not allowed to grieve. I felt him still in the halls of the house, and I still do today. My mother feels him tickle her periodically, and enjoys it now, compared to when he was alive and did it too often. We see lights flicker when certainly people are over, and the smoke detector goes off periodically during house hunting shows, and we’ve seen lights regain life after still working after twenty years.

Don’t get me wrong, we are not running from a haunted house, we aim to move on, and take him with us. We want him to enjoy us moving on with our lives, whether he be at our side, or in heaven watching over us. We will carry him over our hearts forever in our urns, and keep his memory close. But the house is a burden that my mother, nor the rest of the family, can handle without him. He was an engineering genius, and he had a vision in his head we’ll never see. We need to set ourselves free from his vision, and start anew, with new hopes of love, fun, and enjoyment in our lives.

But how soon will this happen? For me? it couldn’t happen soon enough. I just look forward to the times when I won’t have to work to keep up the house, and where I can focus on my talents, and healing others, and make ends meet that way. Here’s to hoping!

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